


Festive Sincerity

by pleasesayitsnotso



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Emotional, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Light Angst, Love, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasesayitsnotso/pseuds/pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot: Unable to sleep Steve stumbles upon Natasha, as they sit and try to find their Christmas spirit they find that despite their pasts haunting them, maybe it'll be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Festive Sincerity

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers
> 
> So this was originally a Secret Santa gift from last year, so I thought "Hey why not post them up.", especially since I've been so horrific at writing stories recently. 
> 
> Also since these were written last year apologies if you think, "Jeez her writing has got bad.", I blame my past self and the laziness of my current self not to edit and make it better.
> 
> Anyhow hope you enjoy, and happy holidays!

_“I stared into his handsome face and let those feelings overwhelm me and in that fleeting time I felt the ghost of our emotional connection. It was just a mere whisper, like a scent on the breeze that blows past you too quickly, bringing with it a memory of something you can’t quite grasp. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, a flicker of something real, or something I fabricated, but it captured all of my attention. ”_

_― Colleen Houck_

* * *

 

     Steve had yet again endured another night’s sleep ravaged my vivid nightmares, the guilty past that haunted him and caused his heart to constrict painfully at the loss of the people he loved, of the life he could have had. Christmas was coming up, and if he was brutally honest he really wasn’t looking forward to it, he felt no emotional investment into the holiday whatsoever as his mind flurried with memories he’d rather forget. Lying in the sombre darkness of his room he gave up on the far reaching notion of sleep, and with a swing of his legs he made his way out of bed and towards the door. On entering the living room of the Avengers tower Steve was shocked to be met with the soft comforting glow of the modern fire, which was rarely ever used, in its reverent light he could make out the silhouette of none other than Natasha Romanoff. Slowly he padded across the room towards her and as he got closer he realised in her hands she cradled a large mug, her eyes bore into the centre of the flames, the fierce flicker and blaze reflected in her eyes. The emerald green sparkle of her enchanting orbs melted and fused with the scarlet flames that licked against their glass casing. Her expression was one of indifference; no sign of emotion was etched on to her sharp features however the heat radiating from the fire had caused her cheeks to hold an endearing flush of crimson bloom, a stark contrast to her flawless alabaster skin. On reaching her side she failed to acknowledge his presence, no inclination from her facial features showed she knew he was there, but she knew. After a few beats of silence Steve’s voice broke through the still quiet,

“You okay Nat?” At that she looked up at him, her eyes of murky jade meeting his of clear sapphire, and a soft smile crept upon her face in response, the flickering light of the fire casting shadows upon her features in a manner that made her even more captivating,

“Care to join Captain?” Despite her obvious avoidance of his question he sat down beside her, nestling into the numerous pillows that she had collected from around the room and had positioned into something that closely resembled a nest. With her legs crossed, her luscious scarlet curls pulled up into a high ponytail, dressed in navy joggers and an oversized grey sweatshirt, she looked exquisite and ever so mesmerizing. Taking a sip from the beverage cradled in her hands she turned to him before enquiring, 

“Would you like some mulled wine? I’m trying to embrace the Christmas spirit.” Her voiced dripped with mock enthusiasm as she rolled her eyes; Steve chuckled lightly before replying,

“Yes please... so you’re not a fan of Christmas either?” Placing her cup on the coffee table she made her way over to the kitchen stove, where she procured a mug and started to fill it with said drink. As she did so she answered him bluntly,

“Nope... wasn’t really in the handbook of ‘How to brainwash a child into an assassin’.” Her dry humour was continuously deployed whenever a discussion involved, what she regarded as, emotional frailties and vulnerability caused by the scars of her somewhat tragic past. The jibes and quips masked the true depth of the damage she had endured, the damage that very few knew of, as she brushed off any cause for sympathy or empathy. Despite this Steve knew enough about her to not be fooled and so in response to her bluntness he drawled out a gentle and sympathetic,

“Nat...” Before he could continue his compassionate reply, she turned towards him with his cup in her hand before she threw him a severely repellent look that clearly indicated for him to stop talking,

“Steve I don’t need an apology from you, it happened. Unpleasant things happen, that’s life.” With a nonchalant shrug she passed him his drink before sitting herself beside him, procuring her drink and tucking her legs comfortably beneath her,

“Thanks... Nat that’s not the point, that shouldn’t have happened to you. They had no right to do that, to rob you of your childhood.” His voice and expression was firm and stern, as if he had never been surer of anything in his life, as if he had thought about the injustice that had been forced upon this woman before. A gentle smirk etched itself across her lips as she stated,

“At the time they had every right, I was theirs. Just another girl to be made into a weapon.” Natasha could read the anger that simmered beneath his skin, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to furrow ever so slightly, and his response, despite its controlled delivery, possessed the lingering essence of resentment towards those who deprived her,

“No one can own you Nat.” At that she took a much needed sip of her wine, casting her gaze back into the centre of the fire, and for a moment she revelled in the sound of those words, because all through her life she never really felt as if she owned herself. Her life seemed to revolve around an every spinning carousel of ownership and possession as she was passed from one person to the next; she needed someone to tell her that no one could possess her wholly. She was glad it was him. Steve exhaled heavily before he too took a sip from his drink and after a moment of contemplative silence Natasha decided to enquire into the soldier’s apparent avoidance of the Christmas cheer,

“So how come you don’t like Christmas?” He glanced down uncomfortably at his drink, his finger tips brushing nervously against the ceramic cup as he contemplated the depth of his reply,

“I never used to, I just... I suppose things have changed. Like you said ‘unpleasant things happen, that’s life’.” Shuffling the cup between his hands he was shocked to feel the gentle and comforting touch of a petite hand on his knee, her fingers tracing soothing circles,

“We’ll be Scrooges together.” Flashing a charming smile at him, Steve easily gave in as he smiled back at her, before glancing questionably at his cup, and jested,

“I thought this was going to make us feel more festive?” An amused grin embellished her lips, causing two irresistible, and rare, dimples to appear, however he was now acutely aware that her hand had left his thigh. The absence of her touch, however brief it may have been, induced a horrible feeling of detachment, one that the soldier struggled to shrug off. Ever since their kiss on the elevator the touch of her hands scorched his skin and incited a burning desire that fought viciously for his attention, begging and yearning for him to quench its thirst. He never did.  His discomfort was interrupted by her teasing reply,

“Nothing says festive more than a morbid conversation between friends surely?” Steve chuckled readily at her witty remark, the serenade of his laughter inciting an infectious smirk across her face as she indulged in such a rare sight. As his amusement ceased, through the remnants of his chuckling he uttered,

“Very true.” Glancing up at Natasha he felt an overwhelming sense of peace and calm settle upon him, causing his body to sink further into the comfort of the sofa, and to just enjoy the moment and the presence of beloved company. He rarely was provided with the opportunity to feel such security, such tranquillity, yet she had created this moment, been part of this integral point in time where he felt safe enough to just.... be.

“Nat...” He inquired ever so softly,

“Hmm.” She answered as she bestowed her bewitching gaze back on to him,

“I think... I think Christmas won’t be so bad...”

His heart pummelled against his chest, thrumming into him that underneath it all he had become incredibly fond of the red headed spy. Somehow within the crazed chaos that had been the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. an impenetrable bond had been forged between the two Avengers, and behind the steadfast denial that both had ingrained for their own protection, they knew. To coincide with the crippling anxiety the soldier fought against, his eyes scoured her features desperate to decipher whether to continue, as he found his mouth uttering the words his heart yearned to speak. No inclination or telling emotion flitted across her face; her facade remained indifferent as she merely waited. So he continued, his head bowed, protecting him from her intense gaze and the potentially terrifying prospect of rejection she could exhibit, as he forced out the last few words,

“... with you here.” As those words hung ever so precariously in the air, Natasha felt an unfamiliar warmth pulsate from her heart and through her limbs, inducing her cheeks to blush slightly and the edge of her lips to curl delightfully. Ignited by the affectionate warmth of his words, she turned towards him and with the pads of her finger tips she gently tilted his head towards her. The ardent expression that painted his face, fed her indulgence of the burgeoning feeling she felt for him, and so carefully she pressed her lips to his sharp cheekbone, before lingering awhile. With her fingers remaining tenderly against his cheek, she hushed,

**“Merry Christmas Steve.”**


End file.
